A time to start again
by Aviusa
Summary: you are a weakling aren’t you... Draco is recreated by insecurities on the night before his first day of school.[oneshot]


**A time to start again**

He had learned long ago not to run to his parents with nightmares. Yes, Draco Malfoy was truly alone. So, in the darkness of his cold room, he rolled over, reached through the frigid air, and pulled on a dark, richly embroidered, cord hardly distinguishable from the blackness of the stifling night. Even if he had wanted to see his parents they would not be here now. Every night for them was one dedicated to the Dark Lord's service; dark revels, Death Eater meetings, one could hardly tell that they were following a fallen lord, a dead myth; he was as real to them as if he still lived. The eleven year old let them have their good time; it was, he thought, one of the few excuses up until tomorrow to truly get away from him.

Finally Dobby came, Draco felt like kicking the incompetent house elf. "What took you so long?" He demanded pulling his somewhat frail pale body into a sitting position.

"Dobby was getting Master's room ready for his and My Lady's return Sir." Dobby gave a satisfying squeak in response. "What is it that Young Master is in need of?"

Draco had to think over this question slowly as he ran a small hand over his sleepy eyes. He had just called the house elf to relieve the boredom and, he would never admit it out loud, but also to relieve the icy fear that came to haunt him. "It was getting cold; you forgot to keep up the fire." Draco finally snapped in irritation. Leaning back onto the dark carved wood of his headboard he removed himself from his physical situation and into the realm of thought alone. Why had he been so afraid of the darkness? It had never bothered him before.... in fact its warm folds curled around his limbs like a playful kitten, playing with him; it was probably the most friendly feature Draco could find in his sharp rigid home.

"Will that be all?" his thoughts were rudely interrupted by that impudent house elf.

"Yes." Draco nodded sharply. As Dobby left though he dropped his rigidity and slumped into his warm furs. Though it was only just starting to be autumn his slim frame did not keep enough body heat to warm him. It was the house too; nothing warm could live here long - not truly.

Rolling onto his side, his back to the flickering and crackling flames, he felt insecurity climb into his bed with him and creep down his spine. Why had doubts come to him now? Malfoys were to be deadly confident, no doubts were to dog them, and there was no second-guessing their actions.

'But what if they don't like you.' There came a light voice from the back of his mind. 'What if you get bullied? You really aren't that big; act weak and everyone will take advantage of you.'

Draco rolled over impatiently, searching for sleep desperately in the darkness. But the cold voice followed the flames and darkness fled before it; red light played over his face.

'I bet even a girl could get the better of you; perhaps even a Mudblood.' the voice mussed in his ear. 'Yes you are a weakling aren't you...'

The inner voice was a needling fear at the back of his neck, pricking him and making icy trickles of fear drip out of him; not relieving the fear, simply bringing it to a sharp focus. Now all those years of being stepped on were coming to haunt him.

'This is perhaps a time to start again.' There was some hope in the voice now, Draco's fear lightened slightly. Was there perhaps some way to relieve this torture? 'Yes, if you could perhaps turn a new leaf... be the strong, not the bullied.'

But how could that be possible? There was no way Draco could ever be strong.

'That just shows how naive you are, that's what I shall show you.'

* * *

"Is it true?" Draco asked. "They're saying it all down the train that Harry Potter's on this compartment." As soon as he had heard this his mind had kicked into action.

'This boy can offer us power. Most, after all, will kiss the dirt he treads on. We shall offer him friendship.' But what if he refuses? 'We shall destroy him!'

"So it's you, is it?" Draco couldn't help but fail in keeping the disgust out of his voice, this was, after all, the clueless boy from the robes shop; he had come away from the encounter believing the boy a dimwit.

"Yes," said Harry. Draco noticed the other boy's eyes straying to Crabbe and Goyle, his two lackeys. 'A weak person who would play strong must always have reinforcements to concur with him.' The words reverberated through his mind from earlier that morning.

"Oh, this is Crabbe and this is Goyle," Draco commented carelessly. "And my name's Malfoy, Draco Malfoy." He let the words slip off his tongue; oh how beautifully cocky they were in his persona of confidence.

That red head was hiding his disgust through a cough... had he found Draco out? For an instant fear jabbed at his mind, but then the ice cold voice returned, restoring confidence. 'Get to the point; Potter is your point. If you lose your confidence now no one will ever fear you. You will be spit upon, and once again downtrodden. Do you want that?' no he didn't, with all his heart he never wanted to return from his new heights to the bottom of his father's heel, which was a place he would never return from. "Think my name's funny, do you? No need to ask who you are. My father told me all the Weasleys have red hair, freckles, and more children then they can afford."

Draco turned deliberately to Potter, squashing all his fears with a fist of iron. "You'll soon find out some wizarding families are much better than others, Potter. You don't want to go making friends with the wrong sort. I can help you there." Offering his hand Draco smirked knowingly, if that wasn't a grand speech he didn't know what was; if Potter was anything like him he could never refuse such an offer.

Well it would seem Potter was a lot different than Malfoy could ever comprehend; he refused Draco's hand.

"I think I can tell who the wrong sort are for myself, thanks." This final answer had Draco's blood boiling in its' veins. 'Because of this.' The voice's call sounded like a trumpet blast in his ears. 'We shall destroy him!'

end


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